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Salthill, Monkstown

PJ Nolan

Blue and yellow flutters on the tidal flat,
The foresails of a sailing school this June, by Salthill station.

Sheathed boys and girls, unruly academe,
Group and splash and hone cooperation.

Then with a ragged cheer the small boats fan and linger to a line.
One makes a gusted break, chased down by dogged teens.

I check the time and thread my recently sprained ankle 
To the first step of the bridge that spans the tracks.

 Wobbling slightly still, I cross to Northbound.